American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Rebecca Seiferle

So I did not think of you so much as I felt you drifting through my being, in some gesture that held me poised like a hummingbird above the scarlet blossoms of the trumpet vine, I kissed you above the heart, and by above I mean there, not that geometric center, the breastbone that so… Continue reading Rebecca Seiferle

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Theodore Roethke

Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire; What burns me now? Desire, desire, desire. I bleed my bones, their marrow to bestow Upon that God who knows what I would know. —Theodore Roethke, from “The Marrow,” The Far Field. (Bantam Dell Pub Group; 1st US – 1st Printing edition, September 1, 1998) Originally… Continue reading Theodore Roethke

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Poetry · Collection · Classic · Contemporary · American Literature · American Culture · Southern Literature

Alison Pelegrin

Hot Sauce Shrine I used to be a high priestess of tail-feather feel-good mumbo jumbo, naysayer extraordinaire cobbling together some crazy quilt catechism to cling to as I tangled in the world’s thorns, frantic, fearing the chill soon to come. I haven’t turned holy roller or handler of snakes, but things changed slowly, or all… Continue reading Alison Pelegrin

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Confessional · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Charles Bukowski

in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea; I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Commentary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Brigit Pegeen Kelly

I have seen the heart Move like a doe through the woods, move Like a stunned doe, deeper and deeper, Through trees that turn and close behind her, The way water closes over a dropped stone, Or a torn limb, or a lasting wound … — Brigit Pegeen Kelly, from “Botticelli’s St. Sebastian,” Song. .… Continue reading Brigit Pegeen Kelly

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